Space is Cold

I talked to her in the kitchen. I don’t even know how it started – did I talk to her or she to me? I don’t remember. Eventually I was alone with her in the narrow kitchen at the crowded party. It was the least noisy location so I could generally have a conversation. The details escape me from most of the conversation. I couldn’t get her name – it was something non-traditional and it was too loud to really make it out. But I looked into her eyes and liked what I saw. I liked her hair (it was a wig for a costume). I liked the fact that we could converse and although a bit odd, she seemed to like it or at least not dislike it. And I liked her eyes. Not just the eyeballs, but the whole package – makeup, eye lashes, and all. I didn’t even scope out her body as I normally might try to do. I looked into her eyes. And we talked.

And now she’s in my head. It’s the Sunday after the party and the image and the feeling still linger. It will fade as the week goes on and the emotional connection to the image will go away. But today it’s still there. It’s haunting, and I guess that’s the spirit of Halloween.